


Off to the Fair

by WednesdayGilfillian



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Bisexual Erin Gilbert, F/F, Fluff, Ghost Girl - Freeform, Holtzbert Week 2017, Science Fairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Erin gets invited back to her elementary school to judge the Science Fair.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my second (and, due to time constraints, last) contribution to Holtzbert Week 2017. The prompt: 'Ghost Girl'.

The email had turned up in the morning, and Erin had almost deleted it, before she’d recognised the address with a jolt. It proved genuine upon inspection – bearing the school crest – yet Erin couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a trap. What would they want with _her_ , a disgraced ex-professor and public believer-in-ghosts? She could hardly be the most prestigious alumnus of Westlake Elementary. But it was her that they wanted…to judge the Science Fair.

She left the email unanswered, but went around so distractedly for the rest of the morning that eventually Abby demanded to know what was up. And reacted with far more excitement than Erin felt the situation warranted.

“Oh come on, Erin! Science Fairs are great! And won’t it be nostalgic, to be back at your old school?”  
Erin’s face said everything – but her friend persisted valiantly.  
“I mean, I _know_ that place probably doesn’t hold too many happy memories, but still…”  
“That’s putting it lightly. Would you believe I was even _less_ cool before you came to town?”  
Abby gave a pained, empathetic smile.  
“But now you’re tall and swanlike, and an expert in your field! You were always too good for that place, Erin – I’m not surprised that now they want you back.”  
Erin huffed, unconvinced, and Abby turned to look for backup at exactly the moment that Holtzmann entered the room.

“Holtzy, tell Erin she’s fantastic? And more than qualified to judge a Science Fair?”  
“Erin, you’re fantastic, and crazy smart, and – wait a second, _judge a Science Fair_? No way!”  
“No way,” nodded Erin. “See, that’s exactly what I said.”  
Abby rolled her eyes. “You’re such a spoilsport.”  
“I thought you said I was fantastic.”  
“ _Holtzmann_ said you were fantastic.”  
Erin was starting to get a little flustered. “Well, that’s very nice, but _she’s_ not the one faced with the prospect of standing up in front of a bunch of school kids!”  
“Why not?” said Holtz, immediately. “I’ll come. I’ll be your charming assistant. You’ll need someone to hold the clipboard, right?”

\--

Things proceeded from there with a kind of fatalistic inevitability. (At least, that was Erin’s read on the situation.) Resignedly, she accepted the school’s invitation, and booked flights and accommodation for herself and Holtz. Patty and Abby thought the whole thing was fantastic. (“C’mon, when was the last time you had a cute lil’ human hangin’ on your every word? Apart from Holtzy, I mean.”) The only blessing was that Erin’s parents weren’t actually going to be in town; they were away visiting Erin’s aunt. She felt bad for feeling relieved, but it _would_ make things that much less stressful.

The fair would take place on a Friday, so they would be flying in on the Thursday night. Erin still didn’t know why she was doing this. A sense of duty? A weakness to peer pressure? A genuine desire to encourage young scientific minds? Either way, she arrived at the airport on Thursday night with very mixed feelings.

This wasn’t exactly helped by the presence of Holtz, who tended to mix Erin up at the best of times. She wasn’t even being particularly boisterous – she seemed to sense that Erin needed calm – but, still, she was _there_. Putting her feet up on the airport seating. Chewing gum. Smiling at Erin, in that particular way. Erin fidgeted with their boarding passes.

The flight itself went by in a blur. When they landed in Michigan, Holtz emerged tousle-haired from under the complimentary airline blanket, slipping her yellow glasses back on and squinting in the lights’ glare. Sleepy-Holtz wasn’t something Erin had seen much of, and she had to admit, it was kind of nice to be privy to that side of her.

“So, what’s this place we’re staying at?”  
“Oh, it’s not too far, we’ll get a cab. It’s kind of…mid-range? Didn’t want to overspend government money on what amounts to a working vacation.”  
“Erin, my sweet, science fairs are exactly where government money _should_ be going. Along with public libraries, and music programmes, and, y’know, the common good. But I digress. The real question is, how fluffy are the pillows?”

The pillows were, it turned out, satisfactorily fluffy. The room itself was perhaps a little dated, but that was really neither here nor there – it was only for one night. Which was also why Erin was okay with the twin bed situation.

Well, that, and…sleeping alone in Battle Creek hadn’t always gone well for Erin Gilbert. It wasn’t that she was afraid, as such – she didn’t _really_ expect the old lady’s ghost to return – but it was reassuring, knowing that Holtz was nearby. On the next bed. In her X-Files pajamas.

“So,” grinned Holtz, pulling up the covers as Erin turned off the overhead lights, “are we gonna tell ghost stories? And braid each other’s hair? And admit to each other who we like?”  
Erin rolled her eyes, climbing into bed. “Who do you like, Holtz?”  
“Gillian Anderson,” she replied, at once.  
“Fair enough. Well, goodnight.”  
Erin switched off her bedside light, plunging them into darkness.  
“Eeerin…who do you like? Don’t say Kevin.”  
The physicist rolled her eyes in the darkness. “Kevin’s…pretty, but no. Not Kevin. I don’t know.”  
“Fair enough,” came the amiable reply. “I could share Gillian Anderson, if you want.”  
Erin snorted. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, we should really get some sleep.”  
“Night, Erin.”  
“Sweet dreams, Holtz.”

\--

Erin woke first the next morning, and looked across to see Holtz with one foot sticking out of the covers and her hair a total mess. The sight warmed her for a moment – before her nerves leapt at the thought of the coming day. She got quickly out of bed, and was showered and dressed in her most serious tweedy skirt suit by the time Holtz had come fully to consciousness.  
“Ah, right. Be with you in a jiffy. Just gotta shower, and then…”

Erin was nervously rereading the emails she’d received from the school, when the bathroom door opened again behind her. Turning in her seat, she blinked.

It wasn’t that Holtzmann looked so very different from usual – in fact, Erin was sure she’d seen each of the pieces before. It was just that she’d clearly made an effort for the occasion. Erin felt warmth kindle again in her stomach.

“You’re looking…dapper.”  
“Weeell, ya know,” the engineer shrugged, casually tugging her waistcoat straight, “thought I’d try and impress the locals.”

They skipped out on the hotel’s complimentary continental breakfast in favor of something a little more substantial; Holtz was, of course, enthusiastic to sample the best of Michigan breakfasts. Erin’s stomach was not up to nearly as much, and as they neared Westlake Elementary she started to feel a little sick. It wasn’t the actual task ahead of her – even if conversing with children wasn’t her _strongest_ point, she was well capable of assessing children’s projects. It was something more visceral than that – a physical reaction to being back in that place. She was genuinely grateful to have Holtz beside her.

As they headed towards the school secretary’s office, Erin was experiencing a weird kind of déjà vu – and then there came a voice from behind them.  
“Miss Gilbert!”  
Both she and Holtz jumped, and spun around almost guiltily. That was hardly their fault, though – the voice had been firm and authoritative. As was the woman it belonged to.

“ _Miss Rutherford_?” Erin was trying not to gape. “You’re-”  
“Still here, yes. Don’t look so surprised, Miss Gilbert. I thought I’d come down to greet you, and…?”  
“Oh, this is my colleague, Dr Jillian Holtzmann.”  
“A pleasure,” the older woman nodded briskly, shaking Holtz’s hand. “And of course, I should be calling you _Dr_ Gilbert. You’ve come a long way from the front row of my class.”  
“Oh, well…” Erin smiled, feeling her face grow a little red.  
“Now, let me give you a tour of the set-up…”

Miss Rutherford showed them to the main hall, which was all set up for the fair. Tables were lined with colorful cardboard displays, and Erin felt a wave of mixed nostalgia and nerves. Once they’d been oriented to the space and the general outline of the day, Miss Rutherford suggested that they might like to wait in the staff room until they were needed.

“So…” smiled Holtz when they were alone again, settling into the teachers’ space with far more ease than Erin was managing. “That’s where you get the tweed thing from.”  
“What?” Erin blinked, looking from her own outfit to the door that her old teacher had just exited. Miss Rutherford _had_ been wearing tweed. “No, I just…”  
“The vibe I’m getting is that she’s your Dr Gorin.”  
Erin frowned.  
“I wouldn’t say that – I mean, I haven’t seen her since I was, what, ten? But she had an influence on me, certainly.”

Holtz had started making them both cups of tea, and handed Erin hers in a corny ‘Apple for the Teacher’ mug.  
“Oh, thanks.”  
“So, feeling ready?”  
“I guess? But I want to do this _right_. I know how much the Science Fair mattered to me back when I went here, and I don’t know, what if I irreparably damage some child’s self-esteem? I’ll have to make sure I spend equal time talking to each of them, because that’s only fair, and what if-”  
“Hey! Hey, Dr Gilbert,” Holtz’s voice was firm. “You’ve got this. The fact that you give a damn already puts you ahead of the crowd, and it’s far more likely you’ll _boost_ their self-esteem. A real scientist, actually listening to them? That’s a big deal for these kids.”  
“I guess,” Erin sighed, trying to keep her expression neutral. Holtz could be…very convincing, when she wanted to.  
“You guess right! Ah, there’s the bell. After you...”

The hall was filling quickly, and despite the teachers’ best efforts the kids were noisy and excited as they made their way to their own displays. Erin felt herself slipping into performance-mode; standing straighter, hyper-aware of how she must look. She envied Holtz her effortless cool.

The principal called for silence, and gave a slightly rambling speech, and introduced Dr Erin Gilbert as the judge. Erin _just_ managed to introduce herself without making any awful jokes, took up a clipboard, and set off to begin a circuit of the room. Holtz followed at her elbow.

“Erin, look at that one! What a title – ‘Things I Poked With a Stick’.”  
“Oh, wow. Well, he _is_ quite young.”  
“I think it’s brilliant. The desire to poke things with sticks is the fundamental impulse behind all scientific enquiry.”

As they slowly circled the room, Erin began to feel that she was getting the hang of this; inspecting displays, talking to the children, asking them careful questions about their experiments. Some children were clearly more scientifically-inclined than others – and some of them clearly had futures in design, going by the skill that went into their posters. It was all going much as expected, until they approached one particular girl, who stood proudly next to her impressive display.

“Hello. What’s your name?”  
“Isabelle Buchanan. I’m in 5th grade.”  
“Pleased to meet you, Isabelle. I’m Dr Gilbert.”  
“I know,” the girl replied, clearly trying to reign in her excitement. “You graduated from Princeton and taught theoretical physics at Columbia, and you’re an expert in your field. I’ve read your book. It’s fantastic.”  
“You’ve read…”  
“ _Ghosts From Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: The Study of the Paranormal_. I’d like to read some of your papers too, but Dad says academic journals are expensive.”

Erin gaped. At her elbow, Holtz was pressing a fist to her mouth to keep in delighted laughter. Under any other circumstances, Erin would have assumed this was shameless, manipulative flattery…but no, this kid seemed genuinely thrilled to meet her.  
“They are… Expensive, I mean. Your Dad’s right. But that’s why libraries are so important. Anyway, um, why don’t you give me an overview of your project?”

Isabelle’s project was truly impressive, and she could explain it confidently and with eloquence. Erin and Holtz kept sharing silent glances.

“Well, that’s very clearly put. Thank you for your time, Isabelle.”  
“Thank you, Dr Gilbert. And…” She seemed suddenly shy. “…are you Holtzmann?”  
Holtz grinned. “I _am_. Don’t tell anyone, though – we’re not here in our Ghostbusting capacity.”  
“Oh, of course. Gotcha,” the girl grinned, doing a perfect imitation of Holtz’s signature salute. Erin started to laugh, turning it quickly into a cough as they turned away, pretending to be absorbed in inspecting the clipboard.

“So, we’re giving her first place, right?” Holtz murmured, once they were out of earshot.  
“Holtzmann! Don’t even joke about that! We are doing this properly, and fairly…but she _is_ the best we’ve seen so far.”

They both jumped when Miss Rutherford appeared at Erin’s elbow, smiling a secretive smile.  
“I thought you should know…Isabelle there petitioned the school board to invite you here today as judge. She compiled a list of your publications and accomplishments, and would probably have presented them to the board herself, if she’d had the chance.”  
Erin was blushing to the roots of her hair, while Holtz looked as though she might burst with delight and amusement.  
“I gather,” added Miss Rutherford, eyes twinkling, “that she also runs a blog.”  
“She’s ten!” Erin protested in bewilderment. “Who runs a blog at _ten_?!”  
“A child in need of a role model, I expect,” said Miss Rutherford, coolly. “And I might remind you that _you_ tried to start your own academic journal at ten, or thereabouts. Shame your classmates didn’t take to the idea.”  
Erin bristled slightly, waving away the memory. “Yes, well…well, that’s very sweet of her, anyway. Thank you for letting me know, Miss Rutherford. Strange of her to pick _me_ , but…”  
“I’m not in the least surprised,” the old teacher replied, turning on her heel and striding off.

“Okay,” said Holtz, staring after her, “Miss Rutherford is badass. I can see her and Gorin getting on.”  
“The last thing we need is our mentors comparing notes,” Erin replied, flipping over a fresh sheet on her clipboard. “Come on, charming assistant, let’s keep going.”

Despite Erin’s slight discomposure, they got around the rest of the children fairly efficiently, and at length the principal called for everyone’s attention. There would be a short break for refreshments, and to allow the judge to compile the results.

At Miss Rutherford’s suggestion, Erin and Holtz absented themselves to a smaller room off the hall – which Erin realized too late housed the full collection of school photos and awards. She _tried_ to keep Holtzmann focused on the matter at hand.  
“So, I think first place is pretty much settled – Isabelle, obviously – but as for the other places…”  
“I dunno, I think it’s pretty set,” said Holtz, leaning over Erin’s shoulder to point at a few names on the clipboard. “Those two there were standouts too, and maybe that kid for Highly Commended?”  
“Hmm, yes, I suppose that’s quite clear…”

As she started to fill out the paperwork, she felt Holtz wander away from her place by her side – and waited for the inevitable to occur.  
“Erin…” came Holtz’s voice, loaded with barely-supressed glee. “These are school photos.”  
“Are they?” She tried for disinterest.  
“From decades past. Including the decade during which _you_ attended this school, _Miss Gilbert_.”  
“Holtz, don’t…”

But Holtz was already scanning the walls for the photo that would include Erin, and before too long she found it. In a class photo – Miss Rutherford’s class – in the front row, there she was. Erin Gilbert. ‘Ghost Girl’. Not long after she’d earned that nickname – if ‘earned’ was really the word.

But Holtz wasn’t making any of those associations. She was looking at a girl with red hair in bunches, and beaming at the sight.  
“Look at your little _face_!! Little baby Erin! You were so _cute_!”  
“I know – what happened, right?”

Holtz turned to face her, a sly smile on her lips.  
“Dr Gilbert, are you fishing for a _compliment_?”  
“What? No!” Erin backpedalled wildly, wishing Holtz didn’t always catch her so off-guard. Wishing Holtz didn’t look so…well, flirtatious. And she _hadn’_ t been angling for a compliment…had she? She puffed herself up defensively.  
“Self-deprecation, Holtz – it’s a thing.”  
“I wouldn’t know,” the engineer smirked, and Erin might’ve laughed at the truth of that if she’d hadn’t been so off-balanced.

“I bet you’re on the awards lists, too…” Holtzmann began, moving forward, but Erin grabbed her by the elbow.  
“I think we should get back to the hall. Don’t you think the children have waited long enough?”  
“Wow, an appeal to my better nature. Okay, Gilbert. Got your best award-giving-handshake ready?”

When they re-entered the hall, however, most of the children were still outside, and the adults were milling around with cups of coffee and tea. Holtz saw the table of snacks and maybe a beeline for it, but Erin hadn’t really felt hungry all day. Spotting Isabelle’s display nearby, she wandered back over to it, intending to kill a few minutes re-examining the written component. She noticed the girl’s schoolbag abandoned on the floor, and a piece of paper that had clearly fallen out. Glancing over it, Erin recognized it as a page of notes for some other class – and then something caught her eye.

In the corner, in purple pen, in the _tiniest possible_ handwriting, were the letters ‘LN’ and several little hearts. Erin laughed under her breath, feeling warmth and empathy rising in her chest. Because that was what it was like, wasn’t it? When it was just you and your feelings, when you wouldn’t dream of telling anyone (and anyway, you didn’t have the vocabulary to put it in words). But you had to put those feelings _somewhere_ …so you scribbled lovehearts in the margins, and kept the paper close to your chest. When you were a kid, there was none of that need to package your feelings for the rest of the world; no “Yes, I’m seeing someone”, “He went to Harvard”, “We’re going away for the break – I think he might propose”. As an adult, it was all too easy to spend more time thinking about diamond rings and Facebook statuses and how your relationship _looked_ than about the actual person. Their eyes, their hair…  
But this private, purely-wishful declaration was what was real.

Feeling oddly struck by this unexpected moment, Erin folded the paper and tucked it back in Isabelle’s bag, zipping it securely. When, Erin wondered, was the last time she’d felt for anyone what little Isabelle felt for the mysterious ‘LN’? 

“Wanna donut?”  
Holtzmann was suddenly at her shoulder. Holtzmann was suddenly… _Holtz_.  
Suddenly _breathtaking_ , even with sugar clinging messily to her lips. Suddenly…so many things. Suddenly, Erin had forgotten how to breathe.

“Too slow, Gilbert. This one’s mine, now, too.”  
She wolfed down the second donut and licked the sugar from her fingers, oblivious to the way the world had just shifted beneath her colleague’s feet. For several long moments, Erin could do nothing but stare. Then she tried desperately to pull herself together.

“Uh, well, I – I’m not really hungry, anyway. Um.”  
“Nervous about the awarding?” Holtzmann guessed, misinterpreting Erin’s discomposure. “Don’t sweat it. You’re good at this sort of thing – the being-respectable, the whole shebang. And you’re gonna make that kid Isabelle’s day.”  
_And she’s made mine, in a roundabout way,_ Erin thought dazedly to herself. _Made it or ruined it; it’s too early to say._

The school was reassembling for the awards ceremony, and Erin took the chance to veer away from Holtz, signing certificates and organizing prize ribbons. She was running on autopilot, and had never been gladder of her ability to simply nod and smile.

How could she not have realized? But of course, nothing about she and Holtz and the way things were between them bore any resemblance to the kind of relationship Erin had been taught to seek out. It wasn’t what she _supposed_ to want – and so it was something she’d only ever scribbled in the margins of her consciousness. But why did she have to have this realization _here_ , in full view of a bunch of school kids and teachers and (for goodness sake) _Miss Rutherford_? She’d never been good at concealing attraction – the Kevin-phase had been proof enough of that.

Somehow, Erin got through the presenting of the awards. And, in fact, despite the way she was hyper-aware of Holtz and where she was standing, Erin did actually enjoy the experience. Seeing the children’s faces as they received their certificates and ribbons, joining in the applause, even giving a brief speech about the overall quality of the experiments. To think she’d resisted so strongly the idea of coming back here… But Abby had been right; she wasn’t ‘Ghost Girl’ anymore. Or, she was, and that was more than okay.

“Nice job, Dr Gilbert,” Holtz grinned, clapping her on the shoulder as she stepped off the stage. Erin flushed – and her flush only deepened when Miss Rutherford appeared at her other side, smiling sagely.  
“Yes, indeed. We do appreciate your coming back to judge for us, Erin. I know you have much bigger things going on in New York.”  
Erin demurred, smiling politely – not wanting Miss Rutherford to feel lesser in any way.  
“It’s an honor, really. Thank you for having me.”

Her old teacher smiled wryly. “Well, as much as I’d prefer to stand here chatting, we promised the students some fun after the fair – which means I have to take my turn in the ‘Dunk the Teacher’ booth.”  
Holtz’s mouth dropped open. So did Erin’s, though for a different reason.  
“No way? ‘Dunk the Teacher’?! Erin, we _have_ to have a go!”  
Erin was only distracted by the way Holtz clutched her arm for a _second_ – right now she had graver concerns.  
“You? But Miss Rutherford, you’re…”  
“I’m quite a sprightly old thing yet, Erin, believe me. I can handle a little cold water. And it’s tangentially-educational – what better way to get the children interested in gravity?”  
Holtz grinned. “An educator after my own heart.”  
Miss Rutherford gave Holtzmann an approving smile, and Erin’s heart swelled to see the two of them getting on. Then an idea struck her. A ludicrous, impulsive idea that now she absolutely had to go through with.

“Miss Rutherford, why don’t I take your place? There must be novelty in ‘Dunk the Judge’.”  
She was trying very hard not to look at Holtzmann, but could see her incredulous expression in her peripheral vision. And maybe that was just the response she had been hoping for…

Miss Rutherford looked surprised, too, but then her lips twitched into a smile.  
“Well, yes, I’d say there would be. But Erin, you’re not really dressed for it…”  
She couldn’t keep her eyes from Holtz any longer, and it was her Erin beamed at as she replied, with reckless confidence, “So what?”

 _Probably_ , Erin thought, as the gym teacher assisted her onto the platform, this wasn’t the _worst_ thing she’d ever done to impress someone she was head-over-heels for. It was up there on the list, though.

But she was struggling to care about that, because nothing about this trip to her hometown had gone the way she’d expected it to. She felt so much… _freer_ than she had ever expected to feel in Battle Creek.  Falling fully-dressed into a tank of cold water suddenly seemed like no major thing – particularly if it would make Jillian Holtzmann laugh.

The children had been alerted to the change of plans, and although a few looked disappointed not to get to dunk Miss Rutherford, they were quite enthusiastic to dunk the tweedy science fair judge. Miss Rutherford and Holtzmann were wrangling them into an orderly line – Holtz positioning herself right near the front.

“Sure you’re ready for this, Gilbert?” she called, earning giggles from the children at her side. “Some of these kids look like they’ve got good aim.”  
“I think I’ll cope. For Science.”  
Holtz laughed, and the warm way she was grinning made Erin’s stomach flutter.  
“Alright, amigos – do your worst!”

Sitting there was like the moment at the very top of a rollercoaster – except that she was hanging there for much too long, because the kids didn’t _actually_ have very good aim. They were having a fantastic time, however – and so was Holtz, cheering enthusiastically for every attempt. After a minute, she stepped into the line, rolling up her sleeves and picking up one of the balls. She smirked wickedly at Erin, who swallowed hard. But rather than throwing the ball herself, Holtz started giving the students tips – miming over-arm throws and muttering something about ‘force’ and ‘trajectory’. They were clearly conspiring against her.

And Erin really shouldn’t have been feeling so warmly towards the person plotting her (literal) downfall… But then, how was she _supposed_ to react to that grin? To seeing Holtz goof off that way with the kids?

They were staring each other down, Holtz’s mischievous gaze burning into her, when one of the older boys’ shots hit its target. It was very sudden, and it was very, very cold. She came up gasping to the sound of laughter and cheers from the kids, and managed to avoid swearing as the gym teacher helped her out of the tank. Miss Rutherford was laughing sympathetically in her direction, and Holtz came rushing over, grinning madly.

“You’ll be glad to know they got a picture,” she informed Erin brightly, pointing to another teacher standing to the side. “I have to say, Gilbert – that’s a good look.”  
Erin’s skirt suit was sodden and clinging to her, water slowly pooling at her feet. She shot Holtz a distinctly unimpressed look, though her lips betrayed her by twitching.

“I suppose turnabout’s only fair…” Holtzmann mused to herself, and before Erin could do more than splutter she was clambering up onto the reset dunking platform. The kids whooped and laughed to have another target.

“Dr Holtzmann is clearly a good sport,” Miss Rutherford observed, appearing at Erin’s side with a dry towel.  
“She is,” Erin nodded, smiling.

When was the last time a sight had made her feel warmer than Holtz, good-natured at the mercy of schoolkids? She was laughing and swinging her legs and smiling her hundred-watt smile – until a ball hit the target and she fell. A second later she came up soaked and laughing, punching the air as though she’d won a prize. Erin hurried to help her out of the tank.

“ _Woo_! That was _awesome_! You have the best ideas.”  
Erin laughed, looking her sodden colleague up and down and _trying_ not to ogle her in front of the schoolkids.  
“I don’t know – we’re now in less-than-ideal shape for the airport.”  
Holtz shrugged carelessly. “Meh, we’ve got time to nip back to the hotel and change. Right now I could use a towel though.”

Erin grabbed a couple of spare towels from the seats nearby, tossing one to Holtz.  
“Why don’t you step inside and dry off?” Miss Rutherford called to them. “Borrow a couple of staff tracksuits from the gym. And then come back here – we’ve got a thank you gift for you, Erin.”

Erin led the way through the halls. Holtz was tiptoeing along behind her, laughing at the squelching noises their wet shoes made on every step. The engineer’s laughter was infectious, and though they had every right to be where they were going, Erin felt as though they were sneaking around. It was stupidly exhilarating.

Holtz shut the locker room door behind them, and leant against it.  
“I don’t think anybody saw us,” she deadpanned. “Which is good, because, Erin, your hair…”  
“ _My_ hair? Take a look at yours!”  
“Yeah, well I meant it to look this way-”  
“Here, let me fix it-”  
A clumsy sort of tussle ensued. They managed to make each other’s hairdos even worse before Erin’s hands ended up at Holtz’s lapels. Holtz was laughing, breathless, and her warmth and proximity made Erin suddenly reckless. Before she could question it, she tugged Holtz closer by her sodden waistcoat and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

Jill’s skin was damp, but her mouth was warm. And responsive, after a moment’s shock. Warm hands went to Erin’s waist – and if Erin had been capable of thought at that juncture she would have found it encouraging. As it was, she clung to Holtz’s lapels and lost herself in the moment.

Holtz was the one to pull away, tearing her lips from Erin’s in order to stare at the woman who’d just kissed her. “Oh…” was apparently the only thing she could think to say. And then they were kissing again. Holtz pressed Erin up against a locker, and she actually moaned.

“We – ah – we probably shouldn’t…”  
“You’re right.” Holtz drew back reluctantly, raking her eyes over damp, clinging tweed. “I’ve never understood how you manage to look good in those, but you _really_ fucking do.”  
Erin laughed, breathless, flushing. “Wait till you see me in a Westlake staff tracksuit.”

The tracksuits weren’t flattering. Or, they _shouldn’t_ have been – but Holtzmann’s instinctive sense of style had her rolling up the sleeves and unzipping the pants at the ankle so that she looked undeniably cool. If Erin hadn’t been busy enjoying the sight, she might’ve resented it.

Back outside, Miss Rutherford was waiting for them with a card and bottle of wine for Erin.  
“Just a token of Westlake’s appreciation,” she smiled, handing them over. “It’s been lovely to see you, Erin.”  
“And you, Miss Rutherford.”  
“For heaven’s sake, call me Tina. I feel old enough as it is.”

The bemused school secretary called them a taxi, and accepted their promise to return the tracksuits through their hotel. Throughout the ride, they kept looking across at each other and laughing.

Back in their hotel room, the second the door closed behind them Holtz pulled her in for a kiss.  
“Tell me if I’m coming on too strong,” she breathed, a moment later. “It’s just…I’ve been wanting this for ages…”  
Erin shook her head, smiling shyly. “I’m the one who kissed you first, remember. That said, we _do_ have a plane to catch. But maybe, when we get back to New York…”  
“When we get back to New York, I’m taking you out to dinner. And drinks. And dessert.”  
Erin smiled, linking their fingers together. “That sounds perfect. Well, shall we get out of these tracksuits?”  
Holtz went slightly red. “I’m going to assume that you mean separately.”  
Erin rolled her eyes and shoved Holtz in the direction of the ensuite. “Yes, Holtz. Separately. For now.”

With very little time to spare, they made it to the airport, and boarded their flight to New York. Before switching her phone to flight mode, Erin found a text from Abby.

_How’d it go?_

Smiling, Erin typed back:

_I’ve had worse times in Battle Creek.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a bit longer than I expected. Let me know if you liked it?


End file.
